We Must Stop Meeting Like This
by CheckeredShirts
Summary: Mordred has decided that he rather likes meeting with Merlin in the abandoned corridor. It seems that poetry is quite the popular subject. Merdred Slash.


**AN: You'll find out why it's rated M :)**

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Merlin grunted as his back collided heavily with the wall. He glared hard at Mordred as the man pushed his palms into Merlin's shoulders, effectively pinning the man.

'We must stop meeting like this' whispered Mordred, throwing a casual glance around the abandoned corridor. 'People will talk'.

'Let them' growled Merlin, 'for I would never be with such a prat'.

Mordred's nostrils flared as he shut his eyes to the temptation of punching the man before him, he breathed deeply until any notion of the action had faded away.

'But you continue to drool over the King, is he not but a blind prat?'

Merlin bucked angrily. 'Do not speak of Arthur that way!'

Mordred drew back, momentarily surprised. Gathering his façade, he gently pushed himself closer so that his body was flush against Merlin's, so that he could feel the heavy rise and full of the man servant's chest against his. Merlin couldn't help the moan that slipped past his lips as he felt his trousers tent in anticipation.

'Now that was unexpected' whispered Mordred, locking eyes with a flushed Merlin. A smirk tugged at his lips, he slowly began to drag his hands from Merlin's shoulders and run them across the mans clothed chest, a hungry look in his eyes. 'Should I show you how much I have learnt?'

'This is wrong. Against the rules!' squeaked Merlin, his eyes frantically searching the corridor for any sign of life.

Mordred frowned, 'We have never played by the rules'.

The words were husky, and full of truth. Merlin found his gaze on Mordred as the man pressed tender kisses to his jaw, his neck. He felt Mordred's warm hands stroking his hipbones through the flimsy fabric, pulling his t-shirt up until he was laying small kisses to his stomach.

'Stop!' Merlin demanded, his cheeks glowing red. Winding a hand into Mordreds hair, he tugged. Mordred's head snapped up with an annoyed expression.

Mordred caught sight of the dilated pupils and hungrily licked his lips.

The hand in his hair was guiding his head downwards. Mordred hastily obeyed, eager. He pulled at the string of Merlin's trousers, tugged them down until they bunched at Merlins knees.

Merlin moaned, feeling the breath of Mordred against him. He felt a twitch in his briefs. The warm hands were back, snaking their way up the inner thigh, moving over the briefs until fingers probed at the waist band. With a smirk, Mordred pulled the fabric away until they too bunched at Merlin's knees.

'Beautiful'. Merlin had no chance to respond as Mordred's lips were already against his tip, his tongue teasing the slit. Merlin felt the rise and heard Mordred's satisfied growl. He leaned his head back against the mortar; one hand gripped the brickwork for stability whilst the other stayed firmly in the mop of black hair, guiding the knight further.

Mordred licked and nipped teasingly until Merlin was bucking his hips in protest. Only then did Mordred fully take the man. His right hand wound around the base as his head began to bob, sucking expertly. Merlin's knees were growing weak with every pant he gave. Mordred only sucked harder, groaning with every slurp until finally Merlin's body shuddered and he spilled his seed. Mordred soon followed.

'M-Mordred- ugh'.

A smile worked its way onto Mordred's face as he swallowed the seed, gulping down every drop. When he was finished he gave one final flick of the tongue before he pulled off with a wet _pop_. He sat back on his heels looking satisfied with himself.

The silence of the corridor was only broken by Merlin's heavy pants as he tried to regain his breath, and the sound of fabric rustling as Mordred set about correcting Merlin's clothes.

'Mordred, that was-'

'Merlin?' A voice rung out, frightening the pair.

Mordred jumped to his feet, startled, he ignored the need to clean himself and simply stared down the end of the corridor, a cold chill spreading down his spine.

Sir Leon appeared from the corner, his face splitting into a grin. 'Merlin, I've finally found you, King Arthur requires your- what have you been up to down here?'

'P-practising- poetry. Mordred was so eager for me to teach him'.

Sir Leon raised an eyebrow at Mordred, 'I hear that King Arthur is quite the poet now, thanks to you Merlin'.


End file.
